The Elder Scrolls: CHIMaraderie
by oopart
Summary: The adventures of one Vaalilenya Elsinaan, the heroic Vestige gallivanting across the land. With the caveat that, y'know, she knows that she's not quite real. Based off The Elder Scrolls Online, specifically the Aldmeri Dominion questlines.
1. Chapter 1

CHIMaraderie: An Exercise in Boredom, Creativity, and Breaking The Dragon's Bitch-Ass

Ae Gzalzimeri, or Of The Absurd Elf

Part 1

_**The Elsinaan Manor, Aaldren Isle, Summerset**_

_**Evening Star 9, 2E581**_

The woman sat on her porch, watching the sun rise, and hearing the birds chirp. Her dark red hair was expertly braided to the back of her head, behind pointed ears, complementing her light-gold skin. She was tall even for her High Elven people, with the refined detachment of the upper class etched subconsciously on her features. Striking green eyes scanned the carefully-maintained gardens and hedges of her family home. In one hand, she held a cup of tea, made from the finest leaves and prepared with exacting perfectionism by her maid. It was, perhaps, an almost picturesque image of a proper lady.

Vaalilenya Elsinaan could not wait to leave it all behind.

With a sigh, she set down her cup on the table, and glanced to where her pack sat. It was a short distance away, but Vaal really didn't feel up to getting up just to grab a book from it. A sharp exhale later, she tapped into her magicka, and recalled some of her lessons. Her instructors claimed that, while her actual skill was average, the sheer amount of energy she could channel was unprecedented, as was the rate it replenished. Vaal knew-very acutely-that she was gifted. And she knew _why_, and it bothered her. Still, it made using Telekinesis to lift some light reading towards her a cinch.

"Expertly done, madam." said a soft, reserved voice behind her. She craned her head, and saw the familiar, weathered face of her merservant, Kelkemmil.

"The instructors are very good." Vaali replied with a shrug, dismissing her actual powers. Best to not worry Kelk more than she had to; he'd served the family since her parents' youth, and bore something of a parental bond to all the Elsinaan heirs. And she knew that, whatever he made of her decisions, he tried his best to be supportive.

"I've lived many summers, my dear." he replied, a twinkle in his grey eyes. "I know a skilled caster when I see her. Not to mention all the correspondence your father and I are getting about your… prodigal nature.". At the last part, he added a wink.

Vaali blushed slightly, sipping her tea. Again, that bother in the back of her head; she hadn't earned this, really. "It's one thing to be adept during the lessons, Kelkemmil." she said playfully. "I expect the true tests lie ahead; after all, the life of an adventurer is hardly idle, or safe."

"As everyone is aware, madam." Kelk retorted. Vaali was surprised to see his smile widen. "Which is why your father insists I accompany you on your endeavors."

Vaalilenya felt her heart drop. _Of course he'd send Kelkemmil with me, the overprotective de'nt._ she thought. Aloud, she remained calm as she said: "Adventurers don't have butlers, Kelk."

"But they can have assistants. Or perhaps followers." Kelk said, grinning. "Two blades are better than one, after all. Or did you forget your merservant fought against the Longhouse despots in his day? Battled the Sea Elves a hundred years prior, quelled rebellions in the Valenwood?"

Vaali blinked as she pondered. On the one hand, she detested the idea of a chaperone, and of her father meddling in her affairs. On the other hand, Kelkemmil's battle experience would be invaluable, and she'd be lying if she said he was just her butler. In many ways, oddly, he was a friend.

Kelk's face softened. "Frankly, I am amazed your parents agreed at all." he said. "You of all mer should know that highborn families usually would _never_ consider allowing one of their children to galavant across Tamriel as a sellsword. Truthfully, were you the eldest, I very much doubt you'd be given that leave." He sighed. "Your parents really do care for you, Vaalilenya. Perhaps more importantly, they know they'd never stop you from following your heart. Having me go with you is… A way to soften their misgivings, I'd imagine. Familial _and_ political, may I add."

Vaali looked out across the gardens. "I can't imagine the debating that awaits them in the near future. Trinimac guard them against Aunt Fallivwen." she said, with a hint of mirth. "But I'm glad I can forge my own path without opposing them." She looked at Kelkemmil again, and nodded. "Alright, you can come."

"Aw, how sweet." said another voice. Vaali gasped aloud-not that Kelkemmil could notice, for he was paused mid-blink. The voice belonged to another; a human, but one from a strange land. The one who had inspired her and empowered her to quest; the mystery force who peeled back the veil of dreams, and showed her the secret syllable of reality.

The man, in short, writing the story.

_**An Unimportant Room, An Unimportant House, The United States**_

_**February 2, 2020**_

The bespectacled man sat at his desk, fighting off waves of caffeinated hyperactivity and flights of distraction as he wrote. He wrote quickly, feverishly, lest the inspiration abandon him again. Self-doubt and paranoia lurked, as always, in the periphery of his mind, threatening to dissuade him. But he managed to shove them aside. He had a story to tell, damn it. A story that he could no longer wholly claim as his own.

Or maybe he could? After all, it was his story. But it had taken a life of its own; was it acceptable, then, to keep calling it "his"?

The Altmer next to him cleared her nonexistent throat. She was still nebulous—a vague image of a woman, only her golden skin and pointed ears consistent. "Ian, please. Get on with it." she said, her exasperated voice bearing a Summerset accent.

"Working on it." Ian responded tiredly. He then focused on her, noting various details—she was young, her face angular but pretty. Her figure was lithe, yet muscular. Authoritative, despite being just barely an adult even by human standards. She was above-average height for a High Elf, so she would tower over practically anyone else in the story. Her hair was... Dark brown? No, it was red, braided and collected elegantly behind her face. This was a mer who took great pains with her appearance, even if it would be ruined in battle later on.

"Of course I would." she sniffed, interrupting the train of thought. "I'm from a high-class family! Have to keep some measure of self-care, even as an adventurer... Could I have green eyes, by chance?"

Ian nodded, focusing now on her background. A high-class family, she'd said. "Hmm. Not nobility, right? That's a bit too... Ordinary, for me. Written before, will write again, but I want something more unique for you." he said, somewhat reluctantly, sipping at another cup.

There was a moment of silence. "A merchant family." the Altmer suddenly claimed, with an air of confidence.

"Who specialize in magical goods? Hence their higher prices and all." the author added, nodding. "Great idea!"

She chuckled lightly. "I try. So, judging by the accent you gave me, I grew up in the Isles. A secluded place, relatively... Aaldren, near Skywatch."

The man wiped his eyes, tired but happy. "Excellent. I can work with that." He paused, then, humming. "What shall I call you? Fallinwe? Allistonelle? Maybe Syantre?"

"Vaalilenya. Family name Elsinaan." the woman said. A declaration, rather than a suggestion.

"...Heh. Alright then." the writer said, shaking the elf's hand. "This ought to be an interesting experiment."

_**The Elsinaan Manor**_

_**Evening Star 9, 2E581**_

"So you can just… Pop in? Whenever you feel like it?" Vaalilenya asked the vague, flickering man. He was named Ian McClure, though he first asked to be referred to as 'Ian Gamington the Tenebrous, Antediluvian Lord of the Memes, and He-Who-Caffeinates'. Vaalilenya wasn't sure if he was entirely serious about that name, but either way she refused to humor him.

He grinned, and spread his arms. "Pretty much. Don't worry though," he said, winking exaggeratedly, "When I cut sleep-holes in the waking thought, only Two-Headed-Kings or their equals can hope to maintain perception."

Vaal blinked. "What?"

Ian snorted. "What I meant is, only a Shezzarine morphotype Hero, like yourself, can see when I pause the game."

Vaal blinked. "What?"

"No one else can see me when I appear, or know that I've stopped time." he finally clarified.

"You're enjoying this." Vaali accused, pointing an angry finger. "Please keep your language to common Tamrielic or Altmeris! I don't need to deal with your… Bizzare writer-terms."

"Actually, I'm speaking English." Ian said, as if that would help at all. "Or… Writing it, anyhow." Suddenly, he flourished. "But that's not important! Because you, my gal, have just reached a milestone!" He waved a hand in the loose direction of Kelkemmil, still frozen in place. "You've made your first major-ish decision!" A strange sound and colorful scraps of paper surrounded Ian for a moment, presumably to accentuate the moment.

Vaalilenya shook her head subtly. Surely, for all that he was practically a god in Tamriel, Ian was the most bizzare person she'd ever met. Still, it fit; he was the catalyst for her adventuring. He'd chosen _her_, or perhaps created her (Ian, for his part, claimed it was both), a random Altmeri girl just barely out of puberty, to be some sort of mythic heroine. Someone like that had to have… Questionable sanity, even ignoring how he was literally from a world very different to her own.

"Hey, there's a reason I'm an inept dork in my own real(m)." Ian butted in; Vaali was also perturbed at how much of her existence, including thoughts, was subject to his whims. And how he managed to vocalize punctuation and parentheses. At this, he shrugged, and added "It's CHIM, you gotta leave convention at Convention."

"Erm… yes." Vaali replied weakly. She cleared her throat. "Well, if you're done, ah, celebrating, I really should finish my tea and finish my preparations. My ship leaves for Auridon very soon." She glanced around at her frozen surroundings. "... Relative to when you leave, that is."

"Don't worry, I won't take much more of your non-time." Ian replied cheekily. He then looked at her square in the face, and the mirthful expression he seemed to constantly have became something else; something Vaalilenya couldn't place. "For what it's worth, you're special, Vaali. For both good and ill; I've never done any story like yours. I can't say, precisely, what you'll be going through, and I can't help you as much as you'd expect. But I'm always available if you have questions, or need someone to talk to."

Vaali hummed. She'd not interacted with the other Tamrielic races, the mer or men or beastfolk, much at all. Let alone 'thought-based manifestations' from the world that created reality as she knew it. And she got the feeling Ian was something of an outlier even by his own abnormal standards. But he seemed… Genuine. "If I do need the advice of a lunatic dreamer," she finally said, "I'll be sure to call."

"Atta girl." Ian said, and time resumed as he vanished.

_**Hazak's Hollow, Khenarthi's Roost, Southern Sea**_

_**Evening Star 7, 2E581**_

The portly, diminutive man sipped calmly from his goblet, staring down the drug dealer in front of him. On the one hand, Hazak was infamous in the skooma trade; it was said the island native's only weakness was his own addiction to his product, and even that was surprisingly not easily exploitable by his enemies. And the Khajiit was imposing and well-armed, especially when compared to the man.

But then, said man himself was something of a terror as well. He was Osald "the Hagfish" Cobsford, the Merryman of Sugar, whose name was whispered across all the Eltheric Ocean. Hence the meeting.

"One is impressed, Breton." Hazak growled, his voice thick with the Elsweyr accent. "Few are the walkers that do not cower in fear, nor display foolhardy anger. You truly are a professional."

"I aim to impress, my fine sir." Osald said jovially, adjusting his monocle. "But then, we meet in peace, do we not? I would be more afraid were I your prisoner, I'd presume. But for now, we drink and we smoke, we plot and we ponder, for we have a common foe."

Hazak's scowl deepened. "Hrrn. The high elves, damn their eyes. Their 'Dominion' are far less accommodating than the Maormer and their ally Clan-Mothers. The last thing this one needs is that Altmeri whore-queen and her pet Mane to take an interest here."

"Indeed." Osald said, frowning. "One would think the armed forces of 'elven superiority' would spend more effort on the Cyrodiil front, or mayhaps quelling dissidents in their ranks. But the, ah, 'whore-queen'; fantastic name, for the record, but she seems desperate to get in good favor with this island, and other outlying territories. Hence her targeting our businesses. It's cutting into profits something fierce, for both of us I'd wager."

Hazak nodded. "Yet, per your letters, mister Cobsford-"

"Oh, please, just Cobsford." the man interjected with a grin. "Or 'Hagfish' if you share my theatricality."

The Khajiit snorted in amusement. "Very well, mister Hagfish. But do you actually know of a way to stop the Dominion?"

"Several, friend." Osald said, his grin widening. "I trust you know the extent of your Sea Elven friends' plot; it's ambitious, but we must have alternatives. Fail-safes, if you will. Fret not, we'll be rid of the Aldmeri soon enough."

_**The Dockyards of Vulkhel Guard, Auridon, Summerset**_

_**Evening Star 10, 2E581**_

"So." Vaalilenya said, fiddling with her hands, looking about at the gamut of elves, humans and feline Khajiit wandering about the docks. She was dressed much more modestly than she was accustomed to; a green tunic, with a white knee-length skirt, and breeches and boots underneath. Kelkemmil had insisted on the skirt, but even so she was both embarrassed by her attire and thankful for it. Vaali had long ago learned that it was easier to fight and run when not wearing gowns or dresses.

"So." parroted Kelkemmil, similarly dressed more casually than his norm. Although he was far more comfortable with it.

"How does one, exactly, *start* with the adventuring?" Vaali asked in a low voice. "Do we just ask random passersby about rumours, and pray that we learn something of note?"

Kelk snorted, grinning. "Trust me, that is not very useful. Rumours discussed by those on the streets are usually more… Hmm, mundane. Complaining about mudcrabs, or news from the other provinces." He took Vaali's hand, guiding her to some random building-only on approaching did Vaali see the sign advertising the ''Salted Wings' Eatery and Auberge'. Kelk's grin widened. "The best place to look for work, my dear, is whatever public space where folk can eat and drink. Any restaurant, alehouse or hostel to be found will, almost invariably, have people that can and will point to solvable problems. Infestations of imps, bandit camps, the odd delivery or two."

"But… Why?" Vaali asked hesitantly.

"Haven't the foggiest notion, dear." Kelk replied casually, and entered the eatery. Vaali hovered at the door for just a moment, sending out a thought;a request, which she hoped would be-

"Haven't the foggiest notion, dear." Ian interjected casually.

"That's no help at all." Vaali 'responded' grumpily, and headed inside.

_**'Eagle's Strand' Military Camp, Khenarthi's Roost, Southern Sea**_

_**Evening Star 8, 2E581**_

"We've got another critical!" yelled the tall, armored mer, who along with his companion was carrying a stretcher. Indelor noted, with much sorrow, how the unfortunate khajiit being delivered was dead. "Nothing to be done. The leg injury bled him out already." He sighed, and turned back to his patients-the ones he could actually save. Or at least, comfort.

The armored mer removed his helm, running a hand over his face. "This is a stars-damned disaster." the high elf muttered. Indelor was very much inclined to agree. The elf then turned to him, masking his despair behind professionalism. "How bad are these ones? We've lost a lot of good soldiers already."

Indelor shook his head, sighing softly. "I thought I was prepared for such a massive loss, but… One never is, yeah? None of these souls will be carrying a sword or a staff again, even if they do survive." He looked the Altmer in the eyes. "My apologies, Commodore Elpion."

Said Dominion officer mumbled darkly. "I didn't gain command of a sixteen-ship fleet overnight." he suddenly said, seemingly to no one in particular. "I thought I knew about the sea and how to tame it. Evidently, I was wrong. But how in the Sixteen Blasphemies did no one-not a single mer or jiit on those vessels-notice the hurricane until it was atop us?"

"Things could be worse, sir." Indelor said, softly. "The Thalmor, the diplomats, and everyone else on the flagship are relatively intact. I don't believe the Aldmeri Dominion could survive the deaths of the Bosmer Silvenar *and* the Altmer politicians. We have to take what blessings we get."

Commodore Elpion grunted, but nodded. "Well said, healer." He ran a hand through his silvery hair. "Still, the plan needs to be altered, now. We can't win over the natives of Khenarthi's Roost with words alone. We _need_ capable folk to help them with their issues; we need fighters and mages who can spread goodwill to Queen Ayrenn's cause with their actions. But in lieu of agents or soldiers…"

"We will need mercenaries." finished another voice. From seemingly nowhere, a third figure appeared, a Khajiit with casual swagger and a smooth voice. Razum-dar, he was called-some whispered he was a personal friend of Queen Ayrenn, others claimed he was a master criminal who blackmailed his way up the ranks, and yet others whispered of slit throats and 'disappeared' dissidents wherever he walked.

Indelor knew him as a smartass, and the best player of cards he'd ever known.

The commodore hummed. "I'm inclined to agree, Mister 'Dar." he said-out of courtesy, neither Raz nor Indelor pointed out 'dar' was simply a title for 'clever' in the Khajiiti tongue. Or 'thief'. "But do you think High Command will approve it?"

Raz chuckled lightly. "Who do you think gave this one the idea?" he quipped, producing an official-looking document. "Fresh from the envoys, an official offer for sellswords and casters-for-hire. Copies are being printed already for the mainland and the Summerset Isles. Razum-dar was simply informing you all of the development."

"Is this… Do you believe adventurers can be trusted?" Indelor asked hesitantly.

"Of course not! But coin is a good motivator, and the publicity will still serve us." Raz replied, placing a hand on the medic's sweaty shoulder. "Besides-and you heard this not from me, but some other handsome cat-they can do jobs the Dominion won't dirty themselves with. Pragmatism-a favored word of this one!"

Looking over the bodies in the tent, Indelor could only silently hope that this island was worth the trouble.

_**Author's Notes, End of the Document**_

_**March 7, 2020**_

And so it begins! CHIMaraderie is a bizarre undertaking of mine-equal parts Micheal Kirkbride, Deadpool, and Saturday morning cartoon, using the storyline of Elder Scrolls Online's Aldmeri Dominion as a launch-point. This is only the first part, of course, but hopefully the unerring abuse of the fourth wall is a good indicator of the general 'tone'; the story isn't exactly the most grim of tales, even if the fourth wall as an in-universe concept is nothing new to Elder Scrolls (I highly suggest looking into stuff the Sermons of Vivec, and Sotha Sil's dialogue in ESO).

On a final note, this is designed for an audience with a casual understanding of Elder Scrolls lore, if any, so I'll do my utmost to keep the weird terminology to a minimum, and/or explain what I mean with them. And so, description time!

-Altmer: Another term for the High Elves, literally translated as the High/Elder Folk from the Tamrielic precursor tongue.

-Bosmer: Another term for the Wood Elves, literally translated as the Green-Sap Folk from the Tamrielic precursor tongue.

-Khajiit: The race of 'cat-people' from the deserts and savannas of Elsweyr. The name translates as 'desert-walker' from their tongue of Ta'agra. The 'common' Khajiit found out of Elsweyr is a bipedal humanoid feline, complete with fur, tail, whiskers and claws.

-de'nt: An insult in the Altmeri tongue.

-mer: generally refers to the Elven races, with 'man' referring to humans

-Trinimac: Warrior-god ancestor spirit of the Altmeri pantheon, believed by some to have been 'corrupted' into the Orcish patron god Malacath.

-CHIM: The 'secret syllable', literally means royalty. Less literally, it's a state of enlightenment about the universe, and one's role in it.

-Convention: The term for when the Gods 'finalized' the plans for the world, including stuff like linear time and mortality, supposedly atop a structure called the Adamantine Tower.

-Skooma: An illegal but very lucrative narcotic, made from a culturally-important Khajiiti spice called moon sugar.

-Maormer: Another term for the Sea Elves, literally translates as Tropical Elves. Pale-skinned elves from the swampy, marsh-filled continent of Pyandonea.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

CHIMaraderie: An Exercise in Boredom, Creativity, and Breaking The Dragon's Bitch-Ass

Ae Gzalzimeri, or Of The Absurd Elf

002

'_**Salted Wings' Eatery and Auberge, Vulkhel Guard, Auridon Isle**_

_**Evening Star 10, 2E581 **_

"Here, take a look at this." said the Altmeri bartender, handing Kelkemmil a scrap of parchment with a prominent eagle sigil. "There's a group of armed ruffians that murdered a bunch of workers at Del's Claim-no one seems sure if they're bandits or something else, but they're well-armed. Our canonreeve Nesaranwe, she's offering a tidy sum of gold to whoever can clean them up."

Kelk idly rubbed his bearded chin, deep in thought. "Isn't Del's Claim a profitable mine? Much of the lapis lazuli and other gems we use come from there, I recall. Odd, that the local watch hasn't taken it on themselves, or alerted the First Marines."

The woman-Oinara, she was named-shrugged, idly refilling a mug for a heavily-armored, rather loud Khajiit warrior. "Yeah, I get you. Rumor says the Marines are spread out dealing with… Well, the usual raiders or whatnot, and the watch captain doesn't want to bother with reclaiming a source of pretty jewelry."

Something sat odd about that with Kelkemmil, but he pushed aside the thought for now. "Well, you have my thanks." he said politely. He turned to leave, only to see the obnoxious Khajiiti warrior was accosting a young, yet very tall, woman. He quickened his pace, not wanting his charge threatened.

"You milksop!" the Khajiit scoffed. "You claim to be an adventurer? Tell this one of the monsters you've slain, what foul beasts you've looked in the eye!"

Vaalilenya subtly smirked, staring at the Khajiit for a heartbeat or two. "Apart from _you_?" she finally asked. "Because surely, you'd give an ogre the urge to retch."

Another heartbeat, as Kelkemmil warily placed a hand on the mace at his hip. And then the Khajiit broke into uproarious laughter. "Oho, but this elf understands!" He made an exaggerated bow. "One's apologies, milksop. Turuk Redclaws, of the Undaunted." he said for introduction. "If you need any advice for your quests, you come to this one, yes?"

"The Undaunted?" Vaalilenya asked, sounding intrigued. "As in, the questing guild?"

"Questing isn't the proper term, my dear." Kelkemmil interjected, watching the warrior uneasily. "They're more a guild of thrill-seekers and braggarts, from what I've gathered."

Turuk's weathered eyes shone at Kelk. "Ah, but these are not mutually exclusive, hm? We love to brag, this much is correct, but only of things that are true and impressive." He grunted, and his eyes lost the shine. "Alas, this one's days as an Undaunted proper have ended. Barely escaped the Wuju-Ka alive; Turuk is old."

"What is a Wuju-Ka?" Vaalilenya asked, before Kelkemmil interjected.

"No offense, mister Redclaws," he said politely, "But I myself am already mentoring her. And we have our first job by now." He noted Vaali's eager expression, and elaborated. "Some miscreants have overtaken a nearby mine. We're off to clear it."

Turuk hummed. "Del's Claim, yes?" he asked. Kelkemmil blinked, proving to the Khajiit he guessed correctly. "Heh, Turuk planned to send some novice Undaunted there, but we recently heard of… Other areas of interest." Turuk cleared his throat. "Nonetheless, he wishes you luck, young elf."

"Vaalilenya is my name." she said, shaking the old warrior's hand. "Nice meeting you."

"Likewise. Try to not die quickly, yes?" Turuk said with a cheeky grin.

Kelkemmil watched as Turuk sauntered off. "While I'm certain that was a… Notable experience, Vaali, I do recommend more caution in the future." he told his charge. "Many would take your words as a challenge in that circumstance."

They stared at each other for a heartbeat longer. "And that is not a good outcome." Kelk added, kneading his brow.

Vaalilenya smirked. "Ah, dear Kelkemmil. But where is the _fun_ in that?"

_**Del's Claim Jewel Mine [exterior], Iluvamir region, Auridon Isle**_

_**Evening Star 10, 2E581**_

Vaalilenya felt she could positively cheer in excitement. Not only was she going to be embarking on her first gallant mission, she would be doing so in _style_! For all that her extra-worldly beneficiary irked her, Vaali could not deny that he'd made her armor look properly awesome. Her armor was, as per Tenebrous, a complex and custom-made set of leather, steel, and malachite, with gold-dyed ornamentation and sweeping Altmeri patterns. The way the pauldrons' greenish-blue metal caught and reflected light was especially captivating. It was undoubtedly quite ostentatious… And that suited Vaali just fine.

And the sword! A regal, inspiring weapon, inspired by Jephrine paladins. In true spellsword fashion, the blade was light enough for a single-hand grip, perfect for quick strikes to accentuate the magickal energies from the other hand. True, perhaps a mace or war axe would be better suited, but Vaali appreciated the art of swordplay. And it looked damned good.

"Wow, _someone_ seems pleased." said the flickering thought-form of Tenebrous. He smiled widely, looking at the armored elf in front of him. "Glad to see that hour or two spent in the Outfit menus was well-spent. Thank the developers for robust customization, ah?"

Vaali was pleased enough to gladly ignore the man's nonsense. "I am actually impressed. I can be _shiny _in battle!"

"And also, hopefully, not dying." Tenebrous said, his smile transitioning into a smirk. "Kind of the whole point of armor, after all."

"Priorities, my man!" Vaalilenya cheered, flourishing wildly. "Pri! O! Ri! Ties!"

"Rrright." Tenebrous then stared Vaali in the eyes. "You're certain you're alright with this? Killing people?"

Vaalilenya nodded, waving dismissively. "Come off it, you made me for this! I'll be fine."

A nod, a grin, and Tenebrous vanished, time resuming in his wake. Kelkemmil clanked up behind Vaalilenya, clad in his Auridon Marines plate-armor uniform. "I take it, judging by your expression, you're prepared." he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "After you, milady."

_**Del's Claim Jewel Mine, Iluvamir region, Auridon Isle**_

_**Evening Star 10, 2E581**_

"Damn it all, intruders!" cried the heavy-armored mer. "Someone alert Polinus, we-" Anything else he was to say never came; his darkened steel cuirass was breached by a bolt of lightning, allowing Vaalilenya to drive her sword through the still-sparking gape. With a kick and a flourish, she freed her blade from the falling corpse, and shouted defiantly. She was morbidly amused at how she made it sound heroic on her first try. Several more enemy Altmer rounded the corner of the mine's tunnel, only to fall to more blasts of electric magicka.

Kelkemmil frowned deeply at the enemies littering the floors, however. "What? Did I do something wrong?" Vaalilenya asked, worried.

"No, no, no." Kelk replied, somewhat distractedly. "I would advise against the shouting, but that's not here nor there. These ruffians… They aren't bandits." Noting his charge's puzzled expression, he continued. "Their armaments are a giveaway. They're too uniformly made to have been scrounged, yet far better crafted than an average cultist or raider could produce."

"So… what?" Vaalilenya asked, before blinking. "Not to sound rude, but we're killing them anyhow if they don't surrender."

"Very true, but this means we cannot expect usual bandit tactics." Kelkemmil said. "And this could pose complications for the whole of Auridon. Having an organized force like this take over a mine so close to a major port bodes ill for the security of the Isles."

Any further discussion was halted by shouting from deeper within the mine. With a quick glance between them, Vaalilenya and Kelkemmil raised their weapons and advanced into a large chamber. Various thuds echoed as Kelk's shield stopped a volley of arrows, followed by the resonant slam of said shield against an approaching warrior's face. Vaali, for her part, was only dimly aware of her merservant's mace cracking his enemy's skull, for she was too occupied with maintaining her Ward against the spells of the enemy mages. Kelk had spoken true; whoever these mer were, they were skilled. Melee fighters to engage the assailants, while battlemages and archers held an elevated position to bombard foes with spellcraft and arrows.

"Vaali, fall back!" roared Kelkemmil. "We can't take them on our lonesome!"

"I hate that you're right." Vaali growled, her Ward threatening to fade as her magickal energies drained. She parried an enemy's axe swipe, but her retaliatory swing glanced off the steel cuirass. Just then, a fireball broke her Ward, the magic finally having run out with a sound like shattering glass. A flurry of arrows followed in the wake; some were blocked by the metal, but others passed through the hardened leathers and into vulnerable flesh.

Vaali hissed a breath, before unleashing the cry of pain she'd tried to suppress. She dropped her sword and fell onto a knee, trying to focus past the pain in her left thigh and shoulders. Both shoulders, she realized; they hadn't been aiming to kill her. A sudden gauntleted hand wrapped around her throat, and hauled her to her feet despite the protests of her flesh.

"Drop your armaments, or this mer dies." said a firm, deep voice that Vaali could hear even past the thudding in her head. The thudding that… Was fading?

Vaalilenya managed to open her unknowingly-closed eyes, to see Kelkemmil gently placing his mace and shield onto the dirt. The lighting of the culanda stones-a gold light brighter than that of a torch-briefly stung her vision, but the agony soon vanished. Steadily, the suffering in the rest of her body did as well; even the areas with arrows sticking out had only a dull pain, now. And as it left, an idea came to Vaali in the wake. And she grinned.

The unfortunate thing about culanda stones, despite the advantage over traditional flame: they could, given too much magickal energy, explode quite spectacularly.

_**The Veiled Keep, Errinorne Isle**_

_**Evening Star 11, 2E581**_

"We've lost Del's Claim, then?" growled the shadowed warrior, his displeasure evident.

Polinus had to resist the urge to visibly gulp. Yes, they fought for a just and noble cause, even if said ideals were against those of the false queen Ayrenn. But she was the one writing the laws at the moment, and so his organization had to exercise caution and ruthlessness. And failures of this magnitude were… Frowned upon. "The adventurers detonated the culanda stones, my liege." Polinus explained, trying not to sound defensive. "A majority of the mer there were wiped out; I made the decision to retreat, and deny the Marines evidence against us. We hadn't the forces to survive a proper attack, anymore."

"I'll have to concede to these interlopers; their idea was ingenious." remarked another shadowed figure; a mage, from the looks of what could be seen of her. "And what do we know of these fools, then?"

Polinus took a breath. "From what we've been told by agents in Vulkhel Guard, it's some highborn girl who wanted to fulfill some misguided dreams of heroism, and a merservant with prior experience showing her the ropes." He made the effort to look at what he could see of his superiors' faces. "I stress, however, that there is more to the story. This woman is _not normal_."

"How so?" asked the mage, sounding curious despite herself.

"We actually had her, for a moment." Polinus explained bitterly. "The battlemages broke through her Wards and she was struck by arrows. A lieutenant was just reporting to me, however, when the stones exploded-the other mer wasn't a caster, but this girl shouldn't have been able to replenish her energy so quickly. Even more alarmingly, I managed to get a look at her as we were preparing to leave. The arrows were still poking out of her leathers, but she didn't seem even slightly pained by them; she shouldn't have been able to walk, yet I'm certain she would've kept fighting had the compatriot not convinced her to see a healer."

The two shadowed mer were silent, for a beat. "Very well, Polinus." said the male finally, notably restraining his anger. "The council must debate on what to do with you in light of these events. For the time being, you are to remain in the Keep under watch."

Polinus bowed his head in acknowledgement. He didn't want to die, but the cause was too just for him to actually consider treason. And so he allowed the guards to lead him away.

_**Auri-El's Conclave of The Alaxon, Vulkhel Guard, Auridon Isle**_

_**Evening Star 10, 2E581 **_

"Well, my daughter, I'd say you are very lucky. Very lucky, indeed." clucked the raven-haired priestess. She had a dark-golden, wrinkled complexion, and seemed to not see very well owing to her age, but not a soul in the temple could claim themselves a better healer. Not that anyone would even try to; as the eldest clergymer of the sacred shrines at Torinaan, Aldarch Colaste was quite possibly the closest Altmer on the island to the Gods.

"Indubitably so." Kelkemmil replied gratefully. "Truly, we are Stars-blessed you were visiting the temple here, today. And I, personally, cannot overstate my gratitude that you agreed to see to my ward."

Said Aldarch smiled gently. "Oh, well, I do feel it prudent to assist when I can with these matters. Helps keep my skills sharp, helps the common mer. Truthfully, though, Vaalilenya is in excellent shape; considering the injuries she had, I wonder if she could give _me_ some healing advice."

Vaali stuttered a bit. "I could never dream of being better than you, kena." she said, rubbing her arm. "I mean-you're an Aldarch. You have two centuries of experience; I have not lived even a quarter of that."

"Three centuries as of last Tirdas, actually." Colaste said breezily, smiling disarmingly. "But that just means I _know _I can know more." She turned to Kelkemmil, then, and her smile faded. "Speaking of which. A word with you, please?"

Kelk nodded. "Of course, altcerum."

Vaalilenya watched them walk away to another corner of the temple she was in-before they froze mid-stride. "Right. Ian? Can you tell me how I'm still alive?" she asked, sarcastic but legitimately curious.

"Two words, Vaal. Health Regen." Tenebrous responded, sipping at a cup of coffee he'd materialized with. "I'm going to try and explain it conventionally. For Convention, anyhow…" He chuckled, took an alarmingly large swig from his cup, then said: "For us Ruling-Kings, the Aurbis is a form of escape, kind of like a good book or maybe a play."

"Right, right, except that you can interact with it on a personal scale, if I recall." Vaalilenya said, thoughtful.

"Yeah. So, the Prisoner-your nominal role-they can't be bedridden for weeks with injury or illness. That cuts into the 'experience' something fierce; after all, even in my world, laying in bed is something we can do anyhow." Tenebrous patiently explained. "So, many protagonists in this kind of story have a 'health bar' that represents, well, health. Rather than present the injuries in detail, the bar is shortened, and when it empties, that represents death, or at least failure." He took another swig of coffee-Vaali rationalized by now that the cup was not following conventional rules of volume. "In ESO-er, the story basis for this-the health bar, as well as those for stamina and magicka, replenish when not under attack."

"Hmm. I see." Vaalilenya lied. "So, what does this mean for me? Not to sound rude, of course."

"I can tell you right now, I've put limits on you, compared to the 'template' hero." Ian said. He took another swig, but briefly frowned when no coffee came out. "But you're definitely more resilient than the average mortal."

"In translation: Don't get cocky, or I won't help you?" Vaali asked shrewdly, smirking.

"Atta girl, you get it." Tenebrous then sighed, and the cup vanished from his hands. "Anyhoo, I gotta go. Call me up if you need me, though. Toodles!"

Vaali sighed, and grinned to herself as time resumed. Privately, she thought "_I make no promises, Ian."_

_**Author's Notes, End of the Document**_

_**May 6th, 2020**_

Another part done! There's a lot of 'building up' in this chapter, I can say right now. Hopefully not all of it is obvious. Anyhoo, time for the requisite terminology descriptions…

-Canonreeve: Basically an High Elf term for a mayor or governor of a town/city.

-Malachite: A form of volcanic crystal, used by the High Elves and Dark Elves in making sturdy, but light armors. Also known, somewhat ironically, as 'glass'.

-Jephrine Paladins: Presumably a knightly order dedicated to Jephre, High Elven god-spirit of Songs and Nature. Vaalilenya's sword is based on their in-game style.

-Culanda stones: A type of 'meteoric glass' the High Elves use for lighting, they emit a bright golden glow.

-Torinaan: A holy site on Auridon, with multiple shrines dedicated to all the major deities in the High Elven pantheon. Named after the historical explorer Torniaan, first mer to step foot upon the Isles.

-Aldarch: A high-ranking type of High Elven priest.

-kena: An honorific used for mages, scholars or tutors.

-Tirdas: Tamrielic version of Tuesday.

-altcerum: Something of a personal invention; combining 'alt' (high/elder) with 'cerum', which is a formal term akin to sir/madam


	3. Chapter 3

CHIMaraderie: An Exercise in Boredom, Creativity, and Breaking The Dragon's Bitch-Ass

Ae Gzalzimeri, or Of The Absurd Elf

003

_**Mages' Guildhall, Vulkhel Guard, Auridon Isle**_

_**Evening Star 11, 2E581**_

The green-scaled Argonian smiled disarmingly; or, at least, he tried to. Demeepa considered himself a smart man, but he never did get the hang of mimicking the dryskins' faces, despite his best efforts.

The look on the Elves' faces told him he still had much to learn. Undeterred, Demeepa said: "Hello there. Welcome to the Mages Guild. Would you like to browse our services, or purchase some casting supplies?"

The older elf cleared his throat, schooling his features. "We were sent by Aldarch Colaste, to procure the usage of your portal-travel. We have the necessary funds, of course." Demeepa took the offered parchment, and scanned it carefully. Sure enough, this 'Colaste' had a cheque for enough gold to cover the expensive, but very quick, teleportation.

"You are fortunate, that your benefactor has such deep pockets." he said, motioning the two to follow him. "Where are you headed?"

"The island called 'Khenarthi's Roost', off the coast of Elsweyr." came the dutiful reply. Demeepa clicked his tongue briefly; he'd read about the island very recently, but couldn't place a claw on where or why. Distractedly glancing out the corner of his good eye, he said, "Please tell your companion to not touch anything. Alchemical equipment and magickal experiments tend to be costly."

The other elf-a young woman, shuffled away from a crystal ball, guiltily looking down as she did. "If I may, why are you headed there?" Demeepa asked interestedly.

There was a pause, as the two looked at each other. The younger one broke the silence. "There's an open offer from the Dominion for sellswords to assist them on the Roost. Supposedly, they want to 'foster goodwill between the Eagle Banner, the fair people of the island, and the unsung heroes of the common folk', according to the flyers. The Aldarch thinks we could be of help there."

Now Demeepa knew where he'd heard of the Roost. "Wasn't there some sort of trouble there? I've read horror stories from an acquaintance who got sent there. A hurricane, if memory serves? Wrecked the Thalmor fleet something fierce?"

The older elf shrugged. "I'm not certain, but regardless, that's where we're headed off to. How long does the portal take?" he asked, his voice hinting to drop the subject. Demeepa complied.

"Well, not long really, but factoring the spatiotemporal repositioning while following the proper Jillian arcanopolitic thoughtlaws, combined with the substrata strain caused by the intraplanar homogenization originating from the increase in Padomaic incursions... " he began, not noticing the woman had begun prodding an enchanting table.

_**Dominion Landing Site, Khenarthi's Roost, Southern Sea**_

_**Evening Star 11, 2E581**_

Razum-dar watched as the pinkish hole teared open in front of him, before spitting out two High Elves dressed for adventuring. His contacts in Vulkhel Guard had spoken true about their arrival, and their capabilities. He had to remind himself that, in the pursuit of serving Queen Ayrenn, he should not be so critical of Her Majesty's orders, at least not in public. Still, inviting common sellswords to work for Dominion interests screamed 'bad idea' to him; far too easy for something to go wrong, intentionally or not. His mind raced at the possible complications: cultists, saboteurs, spies, idiots...

He continued to observe the pair, committing various details about them to memory. Definitely of higher-class backing, if the quality of their gear was any indication. The older elf Razum had read about; Kelkemmil, a former First Auridon Marine, whose dossier indicated previous experience in Sea Elf conflicts that could prove very useful. But it was the other one-the young woman-who gave him pause. Something about the air smelled… Different, with her. Razum-dar was sometimes called crazy, but his nose and gut had yet to fail in alerting him.

The question now, was if this lass was a danger, or an asset. Or, Gods forbid, both.

His train of thought was interrupted by Kelkemmil retching, and the younger one-Vaalilenya, she was named-looking around warily. "Well, I take it portal travel doesn't agree with you." she commented.

"Stars, I'll say." Kelk replied, taking a deep breath. "Tell me we got the right place, at least."

"Judging by the wrecked ship parts and dead sailors on the beach, I'd say we're at the Roost, alright." Vaalilenya sighed. "It's actually worse than I'd thought. The Dominion took a pounding in that storm, looks like."

"You are indeed on the island of Khenarthi's Roost, friends!" Razum-dar cried out, adopting his usual cheery, jocular tone. "One's apologies for the mess, but we can't find any maids to clean up after ourselves. Twin curses on employment contracts, yes?" he joked, just to see how they'd react.

Vaali frowned a bit, then smirked. "You're not looking hard enough, then! Any servant worth the coinage can clean almost anything. You've no idea the shenanigans the higher classes can get up to. There's not even wine spills mixed with the blood."

Razum-dar noted Kelkemmil's face looked as though he'd seen a wraith, such was the horror he showed at the woman. For his part, Raz laughed. "Ah, I take it you have experience with this as well. Razum-dar is this one's name." he said, offering a handshake. "We have been expecting you; you're here for the sellsword contracts, yes?"

Vaalilenya eagerly shook the hand. "Vaalilenya Elsinaan. And my compatriot, Kelkemmil." she said as way of introduction.

"Charmed." Raz noted the poor older mer still looked ill. Or appalled.

"Well, enough idle patter. Best to give you two the briefing before moonsrise, yes? Follow Razum-dar, he will lead to the camp proper."

_**Pyandonean Harborship "Charybdis", [Location Hidden]**_

_**Evening Star 12, 2E581**_

Acamas, Captain of the Maormeri, smiled disarmingly, hoping to ease the fretting of the young woman before him. "Easy there, lass. Orgnum knows we have time for you to take a breath. Surely you didn't spend enough time landlocked to forget how to manage proper salty air, hmm?"

Said soldier swallowed. "Yes sir, sorry sir. We have news from the Dominion camp. But it's not good news. Quite the opposite, actually-"

Acamas raised a silvery eyebrow at her, his smile fading. "Pray tell then, Commodore Lenvaya. You have my attention."

Lenvaya sighed. "They've managed to capture Ensign Qraalel, sir. They're working off the assumption that he's just a Sea Viper, just a common pirate, so hopefully they won't question him too invasively. But everything suggests they're getting suspicious; if I may be frank, I don't think it's wise to assign more scouts to the camp."

There was a long silence before the superior officer spoke again. "I see. Did you perchance see anything else of interest?"

"Just some False Elves from the Summersets, sir. Looked like sellswords, actually. Maybe the hurricane hurt them more than we thought…?"

"Well, I guess we'll take what we can get, lass. Catch some bunk time, I'll have a new assignment for you soon."

Commodore Lenvaya snapped a salute. "Yes sir! For the birthright!"

"For the birthright." Acamas said, smiling again at the young mer's enthusiasm. Said smile faded as he took out the plans for his ship from a nearby nightstand. The _Charybdis_ was amongst the greatest feats of his King Orgnum and his Maormeri people: a massive seafaring vessel the size of a small village, using intricate enchantments to be invisible at range, and boasting the capacity to send multiple raiding vessels… It was practically a mobile harbor, a staging ground for whatever battles needed by the tactics the King devised to defeat the hated Altmeri once and for all.

He knew it would not be used for Khenarthi's Roost, or the defense of any other colony or territory. The full might of his precious _Charybdis,_ and her sister Harborship _Scylla_, was reserved for the fateful day the Sea Elves would reclaim their rightful lands, the Summerset Isles. But the ensign, Qraalel, was a sobering example, even if the ensign posed no risk of revealing their existence. And he was not about to lose the advantage of surprise, not now.

As he took a quill and inkwell, and began penning the official order to stop scouting activities on the Roost, he couldn't help but hope that, whatever his brethren were planning on the Roost, it would be enough to stop this Dominion.

'_**Eagle's Strand' Military Camp, Khenarthi's Roost, Southern Sea**_

_**Evening Star 11, 2E581**_

Razum-dar unfolded the rough map, and with a flourish put the ink-claw on his index finger. "So, to begin, one must lay some… Shall we say, ground rules. You see here, this temple complex to the east? Mourning Springs, it is called, and it is off-limits to you." He punctuated his statement by crossing out the relevant location on the map.

Vaali blinked. "Um, sure, but… Why?"

Kelkemmil glared at his charge, causing her to squirm. "Because that is what we were told, my dear." Turning his attention to the Khajiit, he added: "Besides, we have the rest of the island to deal with; I've heard talk about injured soldiers in the wilds, and a few farms in the area requesting assistance."

Raz quirked a furred brow. "Where did you hear about this? You just got here a few hours ago, no?"

Kelk shrugged. "Injured soldiers can be quite chatty. Can't blame the poor souls; anything to distract a mer from pain or boredom. I struck up some conversations while Vaalilenya was screaming and blowing up the wildlife."

"It was a _mouth_ with _legs_. Not at all natural." Vaali murmured, shuddering. "I refuse to believe Jephre would create something like… _That_."

"If it helps, alits are not native to the Roost." Raz said, grinning. "Common belief is they stowed away on ships from Morrowind. Gods know that place has far too many monsters for its own good." He cleared his throat. "Anyhow, you are correct, sir. There is a gold reward for anyone who assists survivors from the hurricane. Most of the fleet floundered to the west, in the beaches nicknamed the 'Shattered Shoals', but too few have come from that direction... There are also quite a few plantations who have requested assistance, scattered all across the island. Probably related, also, are the criminals; a group of bandits called the Crosstree, and Sea Elf pirates known as 'Sea Vipers'."

"What, Maormer?" Kelk asked, surprised. "Odd for them to take an interest."

"In fairness, these are not actual soldiers… We think." Razum replied with a shrug. "But the Maormer do have a standing presence on the island, some sort of treaty with the city of Mistral to the north." He drew a crude arrow pointing to the city in question. "Raz won't bore you with the politics, but it is messier than a kitten's crib. One recommends to downplay your alliance with the Dominion while there, and try not to piss off any official-looking types."

"Is that the only city on the island?" Vaali asked. "I mean, I'd rather not walk into a town with a significant presence of folks who hate me because of territorial whining…"

"Thankfully enough, there are not many Maormer actually on the island officially, beyond the Embassy. Even in the city, you will find more Khajiit than Elves." Razum-dar supplied. "One last thing, walkers, is that there are quite a few monasteries of Raz's people here. Try not to be disrespectful of our beliefs, yes?"

Vaali and Kelkemmil both looked aghast. "Of course we'll behave! We wouldn't dream of offending folks just because they have tails, we're not racists!" Vaali cried.

Razum-dar blinked. "Oh, no no no, not what he meant at all really. Many of the monasteries are also training grounds for claw-dances. So they can easily tear you to ribbons with their bare hands." At the elves' shock, he chuckled. "Still, good to know you don't have to be threatened with disembowelment to show civility."

"I… I see." Vaali finally said. It was a lie-Raz was certain even an untrained mind would know this, but it wasn't worth pointing out. "Well then, mister Razum, we'll be off to catch some sleep, and be off come dawn. If that's acceptable?"

Raz grinned. Somehow, despite himself, he found this elf… Endearing. Like a young kitten. Still, he needed to be cautious. The woman was hiding something, he was sure of it. But now he started to believe that she herself didn't know about it.

_**Author's Notes, End of the Document**_

_**June 26, 2020**_

Finally done with this solid chunk of setup! Hope you enjoyed it.

Terms used include:

-Argonians: The reptilian folk from the region known as Black Marsh. A bizarre people that resemble bipedal lizards.

-alit: A reptilian monster native to Morrowind, but can be found on the Roost as well.

-claw-dances: An umbrella term for various Khajiiti martial arts; their feline claws can be as deadly as blades, with practice.


End file.
